‘When I was young I travelled around our country with my father. He was helping people look for water. He was not a shaman, he did not look for it with a wooden stick. He simply saw the water in his mind. But what I saw were big cities where there were so many people crowded together they almost stuck to one another, and villages where the sense of desolation was so strong it made people silent. I saw that we were slowly losing our ability to die a slow and thoughtful death. An African who loses the ability to die with dignity is a lost man. He loses the ability to live, just like the people in this country. I want to build a mortuary where dignity is intact. In my mortuary the dead will be able to rest in the cool air before they bow one last time to the earth and disappear.’
‘I think I understand.’
‘No, you don’t. One day perhaps you will, if you are not eaten alive by the country that is waiting for you. Countries can be like hungry animals with a thousand mouths. They eat us up when their need is great and they spit us out when they are done. I sell some cheese in this shop every day, but I am never able to save any money. The only thing I fear is that when I feel my death approaching I will not have enough money or strength to return to the place where I was born. One can live a rootless existence but one cannot die without knowing where one should plant one’s last and most valuable roots.’
Luningi walked to the door and squinted in the light out into the street. There were church bells pealing in the distance.
‘Now it is best that you leave. Monsiuer Le Patron will soon be back.’
Luningi put some cheese in a plastic bag for me. I saw that his back was bent as if under a great weight. His left leg dragged slightly behind him when he walked.
‘Cheese will fill you up,’ he said.
Then he handed me some wrinkled banknotes from his pocket but I would not take them.
‘They are for your mortuary,’ I said.
‘Other people will build it. It is too late for me.’
‘But what about your trip home?’
‘It is not as important as your trip to the north.’
We stood there silently in the dim light of the shop. Luningi stretched out his hand and stroked my cheek.
‘You are very beautiful, my daughter,’ he said. ‘When I remove my hand I can no longer protect you. Many men will desire you, perhaps hurt you, because you are so beautiful. The only one who can protect you is you.’
‘I am not afraid.’
Luningi pulled back his hand and looked at me with sudden disapproval.
